A Letter to the Women Who Criticized My Home

You were a straight shooter. You walked into my laundry room and made no qualms about saying how ridiculous the set up was. You complained about how low the machines sat. You squawked about how the dirty piles just laid out there in the open taking up the space in my dining room.

I heard your voice and listened intently, believing it myself. I went about my work allowing you to continue on about the lighting in the room and the dust building up around the doorway. You couldn’t stand the smell of the cat litter coming in from the back porch and constantly made reference to how nice it will be when the mudroom is finally renovated.

But almost out of nowhere, I felt a sense of confidence. It was as if someone tapped me on the shoulder and pointed you out, making you more noticeable than you had been in the past. I realized what your words were doing to me and my home. That your words were keeping me from loving and enjoying all that I had.

In that moment I chose to stop listening.

I stopped you from going on.

Normally you get away with it. You continue on and on for a time and eventually stray onto another topic.

But not today. Today I said, “No more!”

You were stunned.

And you smiled.

Not a devious smile, but a smile that reassured me I was onto something.

I continued on about how wonderful it was that we had main floor laundry.

That I had a washing machine and dryer that were reliable and even if they did break down, they had warranty and someone would just drive over and fix them for me. That even if they couldn’t fix them, the warranty covered them being replaced.

I spoke about how great it was to have clean water running through those machines.

Not just clean water… filtered, purified water!

I bent down to pick up another load and reminded you of how thankful I was for the four children and husband that dirtied this laundry. Thankful they even had clothes to get dirty.

I remembered how that dust was being ignored because I wantedneeded to play outside with my kids yesterday, and bake a cake for a special friend’s birthday.

Your voice quieted, you started to fade away.

After a time I couldn’t even hear you anymore. In fact, you seemed to disappear altogether.

I found myself alone in my laundry room, surrounded by mounds of clothing…